climb to the highest window
fiction
edward w pritchard
Climb to the highest window straining your eyes to see the distant fires of burning cities in the path of the invading armies. Are they coming or going? No matter you are a recent convert to the new cult of self. A recent disciple to the religion of the disease of imaginary sin and mystical supernatural beings.
They can't hurt you anymore. Clutch and count the string of beads around your neck and mumble the secret incantations as you make the magical sign of the fish.
The fires of the invading armies will maim and kill many people. Don't dwell on that it's for the best; a better place away from this wicked world high up far away safe and serene.
Who will maintain the aqueducts to bring thirsty children water if all the arches are recycled to manufacture altars and sanctuaries? Who will lions eat given that converts are worshiping in underground grottoes and catacombs?
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